The Dark Phantom
by Tara730
Summary: Little Hangleton's cemetery, June 1995. Lord Voldemort emerges from a cauldron, in a corporeal form for the first time in years. But not for long... 'Potter! What have you done again'-"Oh my" blanched Harry. "What are you now? A ghost?" Or how Voldemort became Harry's "personal poltergeist".HP/LV, slash
1. Prologue

Disclaimer : I own nothing.

Hello everyone, here I am with another story. I want to thank my beta Alidala - without her this chapter wouldn't be what it is now. Thank Alidala !

This is my first time writing in English. I wish to apologize now for any grammar faults or other awkward things that could have escaped mine and Alidala's vigilance, don't hesitate to point them out, I only want to improve myself.**  
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**︴The Dark Phantom ︴**

_**Prologue**_

He always envisioned his future with the darkest expectations in order to never be surprised of whatever sick happenings would come his way. But imagination has its limits, and when he realized this fact in Little Hangleton' cemetery, facing Lord Voldemort once again, it was already too late.

Harry Potter, fourteen years old, considered himself doted of a rare degree of bad luck. At one, his family was destroyed and the dark wizard responsible for it tried to kill him. Well, he lived. And strange enough said dark wizard disappeared. Then, Harry was tossed with some muggles from his mother's family and was abused for _years_. Afterwards, he entered Hogwarts and had to fight not only once, but two times against the same dark wizard. And all of this for the sake of saving people he didn't even fully connect to.

His bad luck was not only being singularized by a mad sociopath who would do everything to kill him. He was also condemned to risk his life in unusual quests wherever he went and whatever he did. Mostly everyone believed him to actually _search_ for these quests, to desire for these exploits and to _want_ to save people, as if he had some hero complex. Hell, he didn't even have a hand in throwing Lord Voldemort in oblivion! He was a baby at that time. Ginny and Sirius were other stories… but that wasn't the point now.

The point was that at fourteen Harry was tired, immensely tired of this much-abnormal lifestyle. He would give everything to live a single year of schooling without being preoccupied by a Dark Lord breathing down his neck or having to save his hide in any way.

Well, his fourth year at Hogwarts hadn't been easier than the ones before it. If truth be told, it was even worse. Currently being tied to an old gravestone and surrounded by Death Eaters was a good interpretation of his condition at the moment.

But the teen wasn't about to despair. His mind was spinning with theories and hypothesis as he tried to figure what was about to happen to him _again_. Certainly Fate wasn't ready to let him die. She certainly had plenty of ideas to put him through more suffering, _again_. His most prized conjecture was that Voldemort had planned to invade the school and would probably use Harry to get into it. That undoubtedly would put the teen in some sort of cruel situation to realize yet _again_ a glorious feat where he would save everyone and defend the "good ideals". Not that Harry wanted such a thing to happen, or believed he could succeed at such a deed. But Fate definitely loved to put him in situations like that, and Harry's bad luck always made him triumph. He _hated_ it.

Voldemort had just inventoried the handful of his partisans that cowered under his wrath and was spouting some nonsense about a protection Lily gave her son in sacrificing herself and that this "old magic" was the secret behind Harry's survival and the Dark Lord demise.

"But it doesn't matter because now I can touch him" said Voldemort, his hand within millimetres of Harry's cheek.

He felt the tips of the slender pale fingers trailing his skin and next thing he knew, he was alone with the Death Eaters. He blinked owlishly, searching for the menacing figure that hanged upon him a mere second ago. But the Dark Lord Voldemort was nowhere to be seen and his wand lay forgotten on the ground and all agony from his scar has vanished.

"My Lord" cried out a Death Eater. He sounded panicked.

Confusion reigned as they all took in what happened. But Harry didn't pay them much attention because something strange stirred near his side.

'Potter' someone called him in an ethereal voice.

He turned - well, as much as he could, being tied to a gravestone and all - only to face a red angry stare he knew quite well.

'What have you done _again_?' growled the high-pitched voice of Voldemort.

"Huh?" was all that Harry managed getting past his lips. In front of him stood in all his glory the Dark Lord but none of his servants seemed to notice him. Maybe that was because of the ghostly transparency quality of his body or the dim glow that surrounded him…

Voldemort leaned forward and grasped his wand. Or tried to - his fingers paler than white didn't seemed to grasp it, they went right _through_ it.

"Oh my" blanched Harry. "What are you now? A ghost?"

Well, he absolutely didn't saw that coming.

Soon it became obvious that only Harry could see Voldemort and the Death Eaters couldn't. When they were quite finished yelling loudly after the disappearance of their Lord and calmed down, they turned to their prisoner, who was having a little chit-chat with said Lord.

'Potter, don't be an idiot' was saying the literally glowing Voldemort. 'I cannot perform magic anymore. You're the only one who can see me or hear me, so you _have_ to hear me out.'

"But I don't have to help you nonetheless. Why would I? It's not like I'm debt with you or anything."

'You know that if you don't help me a little here, I will make your life a living hell.'

"What, you would make it worse than what it already is?" drawled sarcastically the black-haired teen. "I can't see how such a feat is possible."

The Death Eaters gasped and one of them ran to him and pointed his wand straight at his face. "What are you babbling about, you little piece of shit? Are you so barmy you talk to yourself now?"

Sometimes Harry had illuminations. He wasn't exceptionally clever or stupidly blind, but he knew how to put two and two together when his life was in danger - that bloody Slytherin trait - and now was one of those times. It didn't take a genius to realize that he would be killed by the Death Eaters in revenge for whatever he did to make the Dark Lord disappear - even if he believed it wasn't actually his fault. But then, how could they kill him if they knew that Harry was their only mean to get in touch - not literally - with their master? As much as he didn't want to help the red-eyed bastard, he didn't want to die either, thank-you-very-much.

"I wasn't talking to myself, I was talking to your Lord Voldemort" he stated in a calm, composed voice.


	2. Unwanted Cohabition

Here again with another chapter! I will try and update every other week, chapters will approximately all be this length and there will be no more than 6 of them, or so I hope. Thanks Alidala (i=I didn't got it wrong this time!), my beta, and all my reviewers. Eight reviews, I didn't expected so much enthusiasm! You're great!

Now I let you in the fabulous company of Voldemort and his Death Eaters...

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**︴The Dark Phantom ︴**

**The Unwanted Cohabitation**

Chaos erupted. Some accused him of lying; some like Lucius Malfoy stood silent, waiting for further developments. Harry requested silence and obtained it thanks to the utter perplexity of the dark wizards.

'They will want some proof of this' stated Voldemort with a maniacal glint in his ruby eyes. 'If you want to survive this, you will need my help. And then you _will_ owe me. Promise to help me communicating with my Death Eaters and regain a corporeal form without telling anyone and I will get you out of this mess.'

"That's not enough. You also have to guarantee that you and your lot will leave me alone from now on, because what's the point if I help you gain a body back and you kill me afterwards?" He paused as he contemplated another idea. "Wait! You also get to leave alone anyone I deem necessary, and that includes my friends, Sirius Black, and some other people of my choosing."

Voldemort sighed. 'You have a deal. But remember : breathe one word of this to anybody else and I will kill you, I swear it.'

Harry turned towards the assembly. "Please listen, if only for a moment. I'm not joking. I don't even pretend it's funny, but it's true, I swear. Your Lord is in some sort of spirit shape right now and he's standing right here beside me. I don't know how it happened, or why I'm the only one seeing him for that matter but well, he and I just made a pact and I'm going to prove with his assistance that I'm not lying." He took in air and looked again at Voldemort. "Okay, so what do I do now?"

'Try casting a Dark Mark in the sky' suggested the spirit-like Lord.

"What?" whispered furiously Harry. "That's ridiculous. I don't even know how to cast one!"

The Death Eaters were beginning to squirm a little before such a sight to behold: the Boy-Who-Lived seemingly gone round the bend, making up ghost stories, talking to himself and asking questions to one in particular. Well, he didn't care.

'That's Morsmordre' replied Voldemort. 'Point your wand to the sky and say the word.'

"Funny" retorted mockingly the Boy-wonder. "Should I get your attention on the fact that you got Wormtail collect my wand?"

'Pointing your index finger should be sufficient.'

Bewildered, Harry do as he was told, struggling to lift enough his finger to direct it at the sky, as he was still tied down. Moments later, a green light emerged from his bound hand and shoot upwards, creating a floating and sickly green Dark Mark above the flabbergasted assembly.

"Oh, it really worked" said a dumbfounded Harry.

The Dark Lord snickered - well, _that_ was a sight to behold.

The Death Eaters seemed to find it an adequate proof enough and they unfastened him from the gravestone, which he was thankful for as he was growing sore. They all eagerly asked for more details - where was their Lord standing, how could they not hear him? From this moment on, and at the Lordship's insistence, Harry lent him his voice, reciting word for word what he was saying to his partisans. They didn't appear to like the situation one bit but paid attention to him nonetheless.

Voldemort admitted that his plans were put on hold for the time being and that he would get in touch with them if the need arose. Then, he dismissed them. They Apparated away, leaving them alone in the graveyard with the corpse of Cedric Diggory.

'Now, Potter, grab my hand, and take the Cup.'

"It's a portkey back to Hogwarts ?" asked Harry. He wanted to make sure - better not landing yet again in some strange place.

'Yes, you moron, go get it' barked Voldemort.

"Do I really have to take your hand?" He sighed as the exasperated face the Dark Lord made. "Okay, okay. Just to make sure, you know, I always prepare for the nastiest, vilest things as they tend to happen on a regular basis to m…"

'Stop babbling foolishly, you are wasting time. There is no way you leave me behind. From now on until I have my body back, I will follow you everywhere, Potter.'

"Oh. But I want to take Cedric back."

'I ask you to reconsider. People will question. If you materialize with a dead, they will think that _you_ killed him."

"I don't care what people say. Plus, it would be equally strange if he were to vanish all of a sudden at the end of the task." Voldemort fell mute and Harry smirked again as a stupid sensation of winning overtook him. "Your silence means I'm right. So we're getting Cedric back."

Instants later, he landed on the grassy ground with a corpse, a trophy and an invisible Dark Lord attached to his right arm. He looked up to see Dumbledore staring at him anxiously. Figures gathered around him and people started to whisper and cry about the death of Cedric. Harry let go of the Hufflepuff hand and murmured to Dumbledore about returning the body and how he thought it was important. He was so tired. He was fighting the urge to close his eyes with difficulty, thinking about the Dark Lord loitering about.

"Harry, what happened?" asked the Headmaster.

'Pip a word and I promise I will find a way to kill you no matter what!' hissed Voldemort.

Harry almost rolled eyes. He had promised and he will keep his word. But he didn't have any bloody clue of what to say to explain Cedric's death. He bought himself time faking tremendous horror and exhaustion - not that was difficult to fake. "It… it was horrible!" he mumbled weekly.

Suddenly Dumbledore was gone and someone took him up. He almost closed his eyes, rocked by the pace of the one who picked him up. Clac. Clac. Clac.

Wait, wait, wait. What was he doing, falling asleep now of all times? He wouldn't let Voldemort roam free around the school. He raised his head, searching for the spectral figure. A sigh of relief escaped his lips when he spotted him right beside him.

'Don't be afraid, I'm not letting you go.'

"Well, I'm not letting you go either" stated Harry under his breath.

"What was that, Potter?" asked Moody Mad-Eye as he settled him down in a chair.

They were in his office and Mad-Eye locked it behind them.

"Oh, nothing, I was just wondering…"

"Was it the Dark Lord that killed Diggory?" asked the professor, his blue eye spiralling frantically. Harry wondered for one second if he could see the ghostly Voldemort with this magical eye.

"Not really but… wait!" shouted Harry. "How do you know that?"

Mad-Eye smirked twistedly; "It happens that I am one of his servant. But first things first, how did you came back alive? Hasn't the Dark Lord returned?"

"Oh, he returned alright" taunted Harry. "But bad luck - or Fate, for that matter, chose that wasn't enough and... well, one can say that now he is my personal poltergeist."

'Don't exaggerate things' whistled a displeased Voldemort, sitting on the chair next to him.

"To make things brief, he touched me and ended up being a ghost - don't ask how, I don't have the slightest idea. And now I am the only one who can see him, let alone hear him. So we came to this little pact between us two and I talked for him to the Death Eaters who were there, and then we came back to Hogwarts."

The face that Mad-Eye made was disturbing with his scars displacing his traits as he rose his eyebrows in surprise.

"Be free to disbelieve me - hell, I don't even believe myself."

'Poor potty Potter' drawled sarcastically the ghost.

"Oh, do shut up, you insubstantial bastard." Mad-Eye frowned. "That was destined to him, by the way" Harry added moments later.

Against all odds, the Death Eater believed his story after he made a Dark Mark appear on a paper. They settled to business - Voldemort and 'Mad-Eye', who was in fact Barty Crouch, the son of the eponymous wizard, with Harry working as an interpret. The red-eyed wizard insisted that Crouch got to Snape as soon as possible and made sure he was faithful and hadn't divulged the summon in the Dark Mark to Dumbledore.

They made up a story about an Acromentula killing Cedric as they took the trophy together. That wasn't far from the truth. The advantage of this version was that Acromentula venom was untraceable, as the Dark Lord told Harry. Then, Dumbledore and some other people came knocking by and interrupted what seemed like a comforting scene - they didn't suspect a thing. Harry answered their questions and was led to the Infirmary with a Dark Lord in tow.

The remaining of the evening was spent surrounded by the Weasleys, Sirius and other friendly people who wanted to comfort him as he received his prize from an ill-humored Minister of Magic. He was finally force-feed some sleep potion and sank in a deep slumber.

The following day he awoke to see Voldemort hovering near his bedside. He ignored him in favour of getting out of the infirmary. Then, he had to face Cedric's parents. He told them the same tale he told Dumbledore and the others, with little remorse. 'Mad-Eye' came to see him and discreetly confirmed the loyalty of Snape to the ghostly Dark Lord, who glowered with relief at that. And then he hanged up with his mates, distracted by the abnormal presence always near him. Everyone took his absent-mindedness for a consequence of what happened the day before, so he was allowed some unfocused stares and long silences without suspicions.

As he and his 'personal poltergeist' soon grasped, Voldemort could not go far to him. He could walk through a wall and go outside, for example, but within a few minutes he was pulled back to Harry. It was shocking. That plus the fact that Harry performed spells a lot easier than usual - and even wordlessly and wandlessly - was what made the Dark Lord suspect his magic had been sucked up inside Harry. And that his ghost form was somehow anchored to Harry.

It was good news as far as the teen was concerned. It implied that the Dark Lord couldn't roam free. But then it also meant he would haunt him forever.

He annoyed Harry on every chance he got. It seemed that he was extremely bored, not being able to connect to things and people: he tried reading but then depended on Harry to hold the book or turn the pages, which Harry absolutely refused to do. He tried speaking to Hogwarts ghosts but they wouldn't perceive his presence. So the only thing he could keep himself occupied with was spying on Harry and snidely commenting to him.

For example, one night at dinner, he revealed that Dumbledore was once the lover of Gellert Grindelwald, making Harry spill his pumpkin juice all over the table in a clumsy way. Or he snorted at everything that got past Ron's lips. Or he spoke to Harry when in class, disturbing him and giving him a jump.

Harry didn't think it was all for the sake of annoying him. It probably was because he was really bored to death, since he seemed to somehow be pleased with Harry. He praised him for staying true to his promise and delivering his exact words to the Death Eaters. He specified he would have never envisioned the dark-haired teen to be so sharp and that he hadn't counted on his absolute cooperation. Well, to Harry it wasn't being clever, it was selfishness.

Better to cohabit peacefully than being haunted by a malevolent Dark Lord who would make him pay his refusal to collaborate.

It was only five days until end of term; however it was enough for Hermione to start taking notice. He admitted he wasn't very subtle about the whole thing. Sometimes Voldemort would say something to him and he would respond in a whisper, but a whisper wasn't indiscernible. Or he would stare with some expression out of place at the Dark Lord in a pointedly way and that would earn him anxious looks from his brainy friend.

He wouldn't reveal the truth to her for everything in the world. He had made a promise and he also didn't want to worry her. The problem was his and his alone to bear - with his 'personal poltergeist'.

At last, school was over. He was relieved as he would no longer have to watch so closely his actions with the Dursleys because they wouldn't care for him. He passed the train ride playing chess with Ron and winning for the first time, thanks to the Dark Lord advices. In the end, they parted ways with an effusion of friendship's demonstration from Hermione and he met up with the Dursleys with a sense of dread. How much would have changed the next time he'll see his friends ?


End file.
